


And Nothing Can Save You Forever

by clementinelemontime



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Grief, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Relapse, Therapy, not a sad ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clementinelemontime/pseuds/clementinelemontime
Summary: In which Dick experiences the “stages of loss” non-consecutively, like so many others. Dick is encouraged by his family to see a doctor to aid him through in his grief-stricken down spiral. His therapist is fresh but well-known and highly recommended by those in his field as well as those who have sought him out for help. Upon meeting him, the man appears fine; he’s kind-hearted, patient, resourceful with his work and he seems to be helping. But Slade seems to have his suspicions not only about the man’s credentials, but his methods and intentions as well.OrDick relapses into grief and his new therapist seems shady to Slade.





	1. He Can’t Even Hide It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for stoppin in to read this story! I was really excited to post this and its 1:30 AM and I might have missed a thing or two when editing this, so sorry in advance. I don't have much to say except that I hope you enjoy this story and that criticism is welcome. Thanks again for reading.

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” Slade questioned walking out of Dick’s bedroom wearing civilian clothes; a plane leather jacket over an olivine tee with dark denim trousers — a hideous combination.

Dick was standing on the balcony of his new apartment, leaning his crossed forearms on the cool metal handle that separated from the building with his back to him. The younger man’s wooly hair that was tied back in a ponytail was being tussled in the free spring wind, though he didn’t move an inch. 

The sun was setting in hues of scarlet and yellow, with clouds intercepting its light. The cool dark blue sky, that also faded to a seafoam green towards its end, was huddling around what little light remained and looked as though it was slowly pushing the day out to make room for its massive form.

For a moment, Slade had thought that Dick didn’t hear him; they were fairly close enough in proximity and his voice was loud enough for that to be unlikely.

“Sauerkraut and pork with potatoes,” he replied without making a move to look at him. His voice sounded steady, though, there was something absent in the timbre of it: maybe something hollow.  “Leftover curry’s on the stove too.”

“A feast for the night, then?” Slade walked, eying Dick all the way, over to the kitchen that was adjacent to the living room, sidestepping boxes that had yet to be unpacked. The flooring was covered in a generic brown carpet that looked rough around the edges, as it was starting to curl up near the seam of the walls. It was evident that a new pale salmon paint had been caked on the walls in a hasty effort, perhaps to hide the filth on it rather than having to wipe them down properly. A little island was placed in the middle of the kitchen space that would have been nice if the room wasn’t so cramped and the sleek marble-top hadn’t looked to out of place with the bulky, aged, yellowing refrigerator. That as well as the tacky black tiled floors, scraped up tan cabinets, and dull countertop sporting peeled ends.

All of that to say that this was a upgrade from Dick’s old apartment, almost luxury. Slade this chuckled at the thought while removing the lid of the pot containing the night’s food; it smelled good.

“Get a fork or a plate not your fingers.” He called from his spot in the outside, which was accurate, as Slade’d been sticking his fingers in the sauerkraut.

Grumbling, he moved over to the left cabinet adjacent to the stove and pulled out two dinner plates and a ceramic bowl. Dick always kept things in the same place no matter the location he’d move and Slade reckoned if he were to check in the cabinet across from the one holding the China he’d find Dick’s cleaning supplies.

This new place was on the outskirts of Blüdhaven, it was nice, in a disconnected and eerie way. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this was a good move for him, that the space away from the rest of the city was a fantastic change of scenery, — but, alas, he  _ did _ know better and even worse: he cared.

Setting both side for the both of them, Slade sat down and eyes Dick from the balcony, still leaning over in the same position that he had before. In just those few minutes, the sun had fallen below the skyline, with a small glimmering golden light in the space that the sun had exited and bringing about the night. Dick wasn’t wearing a jacket out there but only a short-sleeved shirt; though it was mid-April, the chilly weather persisted, but there were a few day in which the warm weather came. He stood up to then wrap his arms his chest and began to rub the goosebumps on his arms away. Slade thought that he might come in for a moment but Dick remained outside; he was getting worried.

With the lights down low the way they were, it was getting harder to see. Neither made an effort to reach for the switches on the wall.

“Y’knew I was coming?” Slade questioned, attempting to subtly pull Dick inside; Dick hated be told what to do but Slade hated feeling worried about things just as much. “I know you don’t eat pork or what not.” A piece of Slade’s heart chilled at the thought of the low-sodium turkey bacon in the fridge. 

“I didn’t,” Dick replied. The wind whistled in his ears, making it hard to hear. Slade shrugged and began to dig into the sauerkraut even though his appetite was waning away with each moment that passed between them.

“Expecting someone else then?” He knew he wasn’t. Well, he didn’t  _ know _ , but he knew _. _

“No.” His response was short. Slade cut his eyes at Dick’s back, becoming more agitated by the lack of communication on Dicks end tonight. It had been a few weeks since the two had seen one another because of work, they’d been in a relationship for the past four and a half months, and prior to becoming “official” Dick had been with him for seven months. And the past eleven and a half months had been good to them, perhaps even great. Sure there were hitches and fights in between but they two had begun to enjoy the other’s company. They’d even grown close enough to show affection as well as concern for the other without having to hide it much. 

Dick knew Slade would be leaving for a job for a little while, they’d discussed. While they hadn’t lived together they spent enough time at each other’s places to just settle in. Needless to say, this sudden move that Dick had sprung was quite surprising and Slade didn’t have too much trouble finding the new one but it felt strange not to be told such a thing.

On top of all of that, he had heard that Nightwing had disappeared from the godless city. The crooks in the alleys had got to talking. Dick loved Nightwing, and separating him from the persona had been like trying to pull teeth at times. And he can’t remember a time when Dick had taken a break in that way, his habits were currently too unhealthy for him to stop; it was a family attribute. His train of thought drained his stomach of the need of food, he set his fork aside and concentrated on his boyfriend’s back.

“Dick,” he called out to him. Dick was usually exulted though slightly moody whenever he came home. Dick didn’t move to his call or respond, his hair and shirt just continued to sway in the wind. With the night having arrived, the automatic balcony light began streaming on, blinking noncommittally at first then settling in with luminance similar to fluorescent store lights. The air around them took on its own life and began to breath along with them, it felt like. 

“Dick.” He growled out trying to get his attention. Dick hated when Slade yelled or caught an attitude with him, yet in this instance remained despondent. It was like he was catatonic. Was he ill? Slade rose from his seat abruptly, knocking the table back a few inches and rattling the plates on the table, walking cautiously over to the doorway of the balcony where he stopped. Dick was a two feet away but something told Slade he was so much farther away than that. 

“Richard?” Asking slowly, he almost sounded angry but that was how he was when concerned, one would suppose. His wide eye was burning a hole in his back. A light huff, or a chuckle, escaped Dick; the wind still blowing around him. In a lackadaisical manor he, turned for Slade to get a three-quarters view of him. Dick was smiling at him. If he had been another man, a weaker one, he would have gasped but he had simply tended up. One could blame it on the fluorescence illuminating his form or one could assume he would have been just tired. But Slade knew enough about Dick to know that he was looking at someone that was dead. 

Dick’s eyes were puffy from crying and bleary yet blank, and then there were the bags. It was all too clear now that he had lost some weight, hadn’t he noticed that before? And that well-meaning smile, it might have been genuine and that made it all they more frightening. Though it was obvious that he was attempting to make it seem like nothing was wrong with it. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong about it, and that choked him up too; but he knew something was wrong.  _ God _ , Slade thought,  _ he can’t even hide it. _


	2. Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and his therapist have their first session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I don't have a reason or an excuse. However, if it's any consolation, I held off on programming my webpage for school that's due tomorrow just to write this chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry if the writings bad, I'm still not very good yet, I just like writing for fun.
> 
> Another apology in advance for any spelling errors or typos.

“I hate this.” Dick murmured between the plastic utensil clenched in his teeth. The red water ice on his spoon was now liquid, slowing making its way down to Dick’s throat to choke him a bit later on.   
  
He was looking out into the crowd of people bustling by in a heavily populated corner of Gotham, though, one could describe every corner in Gotham as crowded during the summer. 

Children walked with their parents or siblings, uncomfortable and rubbing their eyebrows to wipe away their sweat. Lovers held hands, shifting their grips constantly and hustling to their intended location, so to escape the early summer heat. Teens loitered around and socialized, pretending the weather didn’t affect them. Food-stand workers leaned over, trying their best to stay under the shade of their umbrellas. 

And Dick sat watching it all through the haze with a frown, trying to ignore the voice of his new therapist.   
  
On the heated metal bench that he was sitting on, the paint was peeling back and the armrest burning into his skin on his right side. In his left hand was sweating a cup filled with cherry water ice. A piece of the cherry bits was stick in his back teeth since his first bite and was bothering the hell out of him. He had taken a few spoonfuls of the ice since, but was not loving it the way he usually would. It was mostly due to his new company: that is, Lynn, the doctor at Bruce’s recommendation. He’s promised to sit in for   


_“Just a few sessions. That’s all I’m asking.” Bruce reasoned at Dick’s back, following him as he hastily made his way to the door of the manor._   
  
_“I still can’t believe he talked to you about this! I asked him not to.” Dick repeated for the third time during Bruce’s lecture, or just a “talk” if one had asked Bruce. He hadn’t expected Slade to go behind his back in that way, even if it was for his own good. The breach of confidentiality infuriated him to a near boiling temperature, though, the thought of Slade caring enough to go out of his way and talk to a man who he considered an enemy simply for the sake of Dick’s well-being was cooling him down just as quickly; that, among other things. And they might have been the only few reasons he agreed to this nonsense._   
_  
“And if after a few sessions, you don’t like him, I’ll find you a new one.” He’d said that already, though most likely felt the need to repeat it in case Dick hadn’t heard him over his fit—which he had. All things considered, Dick was surprised at the patience that his father was exhibiting. He hadn’t been this patient with him since he was a child._

_“You said that eight minutes ago,” Dick sighed while shoving his shoes on in front of the manor entrance with his back to his father. He hadn’t wanted Bruce to look too hard at him, lest he notice the bags under his eyes, or the clothes that he’d been wearing for two days straight, or the fact that he was wearing a jacket in the summer heat to hide his weight loss. “And I said I’d go! You don’t have to keep pushing the idea on me. I know I need help right not but I’m not thrilled about it, okay?”_   
  
_With both worn yellow converses on his feet, Dick straightened up, back still turned. He could feel Bruce staring at him, he could feel the man’s worry, which worried him. Bruce was quick to act, knowing his eldest needed the space away from him at the moment and not wanting to bring forth Dick’s wrath or cause him any more stress; he was getting better at responding to these behaviors in his children. And also, he wasn’t up for an argument and almost never equipped for comforting anyone. Stepping towards Dick, Bruce placed his hand in Dick’s and shifted some paper in between them._   
  
_Startled, Dick flinched at the foreign sensation and grasped the paper, bringing into closer to his line of sight. It was a yellow sticky note with a list of various different names and events holding at least eleven items on it; the top few things being:_   
_-Parents_   
_-Circus_   
_-S. Wilson_   
_-Diet_   
  
_Gaze shifting back and forth reading the lost off, Dick was confused. His eyes felt strained from taking it in; most likely because of the lack of sleep and proper rest._   
  
_“What’s this?” He asked, continuing to stare but not much reading the materials anymore. Bruce shrugged and took a few steps back with his hands up in a semi-surrendered position._   
_  
“A small list of things I think that you should discuss or bring up to talk to Dr. Tramp about.” He sounded sincere, maybe even well meaning. _

_But then, he always did when it came to things like this. Dick directed his exhausted gaze to him, looking unimpressed._   
_  
“Bruce,” he started, voice beginning to strain. “For the last time: I have a lot a problems going on in my life, but Slade is not one of them.” _

_A conversation that they’d had more times than Dick could count at this point. It was tired and he found no part of Bruce’s concern, or the rest of his family’s concern, in the matter to be endearing. He made for the door handle once again._   
_  
“I won’t complain about the relationship in its entirety for now. However I’d like for you to discuss how you rushed into this commitment; it’s very unlike you.” _

_He couldn’t argue with that last one but the door was already open and he was determined to have the last word today._   
  
_“Bruce, real life is different from fiction, you know. Life is fast most times.”_   
  
_“You sound ridiculous. Please try to get sleep, you aren’t working or productive right now, so I know you aren’t busy with anything.” Dick groaned speed walking away to his bike._   
_  
“Yeah, sure.” He concluded, fitting the helmet onto his head. “Thanks for”_

 

“coming today.” Dr. Tramp, that is Lynn, smiled over at Dick, who hadn’t caught what he’d said.

“Huh?” Lynn laughed. It sounded genuine. Most everything about him did.

“I said: ‘Thanks for coming to see me today.’” Lynn repeated. Dick took in another spoonful of water ice. “And before that, asked what you’d said before.”

Dr. Lynn was a real golden guy and he had the youth, the hair, and the skin to match it and everything. Even with his build, the doctor looked like one of those men from the old newspaper ads.  And he was nice, as far as he could tell so far, and seemed truthful about the person he was. That is to say, that what was inside of him showed on the outside: he didn’t lie about who he was or how he felt. At least, that was the impression that Dick got from him, and he considered himself a fairly good judge of character.

He had only known him for a total of twenty-four minutes, however, in that time, Lynn seemed to want to connect with him; get as familiar as was appropriate. Dick felt like he was rushed or pulled into that mentality, but it wasn’t exactly that bad for him. From the door, he told Dick to call him by his first name; ‘Dr.’ title omitted and everything. He’d even bought him water ice. He liked water ice a lot as a child. 

Even so, he’d rather not talk about his problem with an issue that should have been look resolved. It was embarrassing.

“Hm,” He began, swallowing the contents in his mouth. A mother passed by with her son, walking away from the water ice stand with blueberry for her and a mango in her toddler’s hand. Dick watched them. “I’d said that I like the water ice from the stand. Best I’ve had in awhile.”

“Oh, you get water ice often? That can’t be healthy.” He laughed. His voice was deep, not like how a therapists was supposed to be, but soothing like a lullaby. 

Unconsciously, Dick started rubbing the cool red treat over his lips.

“Funny, you should say that; I’m supposed to be talking to you about my poor diet.”

Lynn shifted his body on the bench to face Dick, warping his gaze that was straight ahead in the process. He wrapped his arm around the back of the bench, getting comfortable.  
  
That made one of them, Dick thought.   
  
“Your diet? Tell me about that. What’s your favorite thing to eat?” He prompted kindly.   
  
“Well, I like sauerkraut and waffles right now.” Dick already saw the confusion forming on his face. “But not together of course! And I like the gyro from a vendor near my house. They serve it with fries and sometimes I get cheese on those.”   
  
The doctor rubbing his chin looking thoughtful.   
  
“You’re right. That is a poor diet. At least to start off with.” Dick’s eyes narrowed at him from the side, still playing with his food. “Even so, you don’t appear to be suffering from any health issues, other than the fact that you look as though you’ve lost weight. Do you work out? You seem the type.”   
  
_You don’t know the half of it._   
  
All of the questions were nerve inducing; it was strange, he’d never gotten nervous about talking about himself before. And if he didn’t feel like doing something or talking, he would say so. But now he didn’t want to say anything at all. He rubbed the ice harder. His lips were starting to burn raw.   
  
“Are you gonna remember all of this, Dr. Lynn? You don’t have any pens or paper.” Lynn tapped his temple.   
  
“All up here for now. And we’re just talking, this isn’t an interrogation. You’re a hand—what...what is that you’re doing?” Dick turned to him, looking at him fully for the first time. His brows were scrunched as though disturbed.   
  
“Oh, this?” Gesturing to his lips and the spoon in his hand.   
  
“Yes. Are you okay?” Something about the way he’d said that...   
  
Scrambling in his mind to explain, Dick shrugged looking away, feeling as though _he_ was strange one here.   
  
“Well, y’know. Just to get my lips red.” And they were red.   
  
“Why?”   
  
This was why he hadn’t wanted to do this. The judgement. The lies. How could he get help if he wasn’t telling someone the entire truth? This was a doomed idea from the start. He didn’t even want to explain something as simple as this. Lucky, he’d only promised a few sessions and not a time period.   
  
And just doing this with the damned  water ice was putting him in a bad place. It made him think of his parents. Lately, it had felt like they were in everything, in everyone, and everywhere. Attached to every memory he’d made up until now.   
  
It was like he’d never had time to even think about all of this even though it was nearly two decades ago.

Like he never had a period to process.  
  
Dick’s shoulders slumped and he heaved a resigned sigh. The sound of a “humph” from Tramp had him bringing his attention to him, eyebrows raised.   
  
Tramp made a motion as if applying something to his lips, still smiling. Always smiling.   
  
“Lipstick?”   
  
There was a soft moment of silence between them. Not exactly silence, but, as quiet as it can get between two people in the middle of a heavily populated city square.   
  
Dick made a sound of agreement.   
  
“Yeah,”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry that it was mostly a boring one. And sorry for no Slade and Dick interaction, there will be plenty of that in later chapters. 
> 
> My sister said that I make my chapters too long, so that's why I'm trying to shorten them lately; but if anyone wants longer ones, I can make them longer. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story if you've read it. I'm gonna update 'Fever' in a few days (I'm not lying, I actually mean it), if anyone was wondering about that.
> 
> Criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> There are surprises to come so I'll add them as I go, but nothing bad; I'm not trying to set anyone up for a bad time here.


End file.
